by Xavier Neal
Wrench groans but does as he's told.
Just a few short minutes later, Madden closes the hood of the car. “For the record, I would never toss you shit I don't wanna do just because I don't wanna do it. I have more respect for this company than that and more importantly, I have more respect for you than that. So don't come at me fucking sideways when I'm doing the thing I fucking hate to do which is asking for help.”
Oh God, he hates asking for help. You know that phrase pulling teeth? Yeah it's more like pulling the nerves in his eyes out one at a time.
“Sorry,” I apologize quietly.
Drew instantly snaps, “Holy shit. Did Knox just-”
“Shut it,” my bite back is viscous.
He chuckles to himself until the sound of a car pulling into the shop driveway causes it to stop. Suddenly Madden's at my side, arms folded firmly across his chest, clearly bracing himself.
The police car doors open and I feel the breath in my lungs run to hide.
There's no way he can go to jail for that. We covered all the bases. Right?
“We're looking for Madden McCoy,” says the officer who was driving.
Madden tenses but takes a step forward. “I'm Madden McCoy.”
“Madden McCoy you are being placed under arrest for aggravated assault,” he announces slowly approaching. “Please put your hands behind your head and turn around slowly.”
“Assault on who?” Drew snaps. “Who the hell-”
“Tone sir,” the other officer warns, hand quickly dropping to his weapon.
“Quiet Triple D,” Madden demands at the same time Destin stumbles out of the office.
Wrench hustles around the corner, “What are the red and blues doin' here?”
“Sir.” The assisting officer lifts a hand. “Please stay where you are.”
“But-”
“Wrench,” my harsh tone causes him to listen immediately.
While the officer continues reading Madden his rights his face remains unmoved. It's cold and solid. Silent. Refusing to show any sign of weakness, I fold my own arms across my chest, eyes never leaving his. For just a brief moment it seems like none of this is happening. It's as if we're the only two people in the garage and instead of verbally professing his love for me, he wants me to see it with every blink he delivers. With the whispers of words not spoken.
Well, I'm listening. I hope he can hear my ‘I love you too’.
The officer turns him around in a sharp tug. “Let's go.”
In silence the four of us watch them remove the rock of this family we've spent most of our lives relying on.
What the fuck am I supposed to do now? I'm open to fucking suggestions.
Madden
I've been in a cell more times that I care to admit. None of the stints lasted very long. Most not worth a damn. Wrong place wrong time kind of thing. Most of it revolving around street racing. I hadn't been in a cell for years thanks to that motherfucker who has returned home to his native land of hell. Now that I've had a fucking walk down memory lane, let's just say it's not a fucking place I wanna call home.
My head rolls around the interrogation room that I'm finally in. Gray walls. A camera in the corner. One entrance. One exit. No two way mirror.
At least no one will be listening right on the other side.
The door opens and a face I expected to see enters. Gripping the paperwork in his hands tightly, he greets me, “McCoy.”
“Commissioner Carter.”
He nods his head at my handcuffs. “You understand this is not a social visit.”
Handcuffs give that shit away.
“I do.”
Still standing he slides a hand in his pocket. “Are you going to ask for an attorney?”
Shut up. I know exactly what I'm doing.
“Why would an innocent man need one?” I counter.
His face twitches. “Do you know why you're here?”
“I'm being accused of aggravated assault.”
I knew I should've just killed that son a bitch when I had the chance. Breathe. Don't count me out just yet.
“Yes,” he sighs. “You're also wanted for questioning in the murder of Ethan Dwight Smith.” When I don't comment he tosses a photo on the table. “You know him as The Devil.”
His real name was Ethan Dwight Smith? I knew that fucking CEO 500 bullshit look made fucking sense.
“You don't look surprised.” My eyes lift back up. “Did you know he had been murdered?”
“I don't look surprised, Commissioner, because it was no secret he had many enemies. There had been several people he double crossed. Murder was inevitable for him.”
Commissioner Carter nods and slowly paces back and forth. “Where were you the night he was murdered?”
“I'm not sure what night he was murdered, so I cannot correctly answer your question.”
Sneaky fuck. Don't get me wrong, the Commissioner is a good man. Smart too, but he's not taking me down for that. No way am I rotting in a cell for it.
“Oh, did I fail to mention that?” He sarcastically chuckles. “He was murdered this past Friday night.”
“I was on my honeymoon,” I state proudly starting to smile. “Remember? You saw us celebrating late that afternoon at Aliments, the French cafe. You approached us just moments after our toast.”
Now do you see the picture?
“I recall.” He clears his throat. “Odd that the same day you got married, the man who has caused your family so much grief is murdered.”
Best fucking wedding present ever.
“Was there a question there?”
He grimaces. “Do you think the timing is unusual?”
“I think it's a coincidence. I had no way of knowing it would be the same day. You said he was murdered that night. We got married that afternoon. We had bookings planned from a couple days before-”
“That's right,” he stops me from further speaking. Opening the file he reads off, “Chateau Magnifique. Feeling French for your special day?”
With a shrug I retort, “Turns out Knox has a weird fetish for it.”
She does. She even likes French films, which I fucking hate. And yeah, I said films because one, those pieces of shit aren't movies and two because every time I've ever called them movies she's tossed me a punch. Shoulder, but still.
“I spoke to the front desk girl who checked you in,” he begins, flipping through the paperwork in his possession, finally sitting down. “Says you two were quite memorable.”
Surely, you're catching on...
I simply lift my eyebrows. “There was no question there either.”
Slightly frustrated he growls, “That evening. How did you two spend it?”
“The same way any husband and wife spend their honeymoon.” Smiling softly I say, “Would you like details Commissioner?”
Uncomfortable with the way I'm pushing his buttons he snips, “Were you intimate?”
“Repeatedly.” I state. “And loudly. We received a phone call to try to keep the noise down.”
Well Destin received the call and wired it to a pre-recorded set of words and answers. Clever. I know.
He hums and turns the page, scanning the document. “You never left the hotel?”
“Not until the next morning for breakfast.”
“Did you know there was a disturbance in the video feed that monitors the outside of the building?”
Folding my hands together I shake my head. “I did not.”
“Did you know it was disturbed twice? Once shortly before The Devil's murder and once shortly after.”
Still calm, I reply, “I was not aware. As I mentioned before, I was in my room. With my new wife.”
The Commissioner rests his arms on the folder while I keep my eyes plastered in his. “What do you think about that?”
“That for a French themed hotel they might want better security.”
“You don't think it's strange?”
“I think technology is not alway
s reliable.”
“Do you think it's odd that you had room service delivered to your room at the approximate time of death of The Devil?”
When I tilt my head to the side I ask, “Why would that be odd?”
“At that exact moment in time, the man you hate, openly, the man you've been hunting, again, openly, was put to death.” He pulls out another photo. This one of his dead body on an autopsy table. “Two shots were fired into his frontal lobe. Two shots like an execution was being made.”
It was a fucking execution. And I was judge and jury. I more than earned that right.
“Do you find that timing to be strange?”
“No.”
Commissioner Carter fights the urge to glare. “You called ahead to order that room service, is that correct?”
“It is.”
“For the exact same time a murder was committed.”
Instead of reminding him he didn't actually ask me a question I sigh, “I'm assuming you interviewed the room service rep who dropped it off?”
“I did. Speaking of, do you recall if it was a male or female?”
“A male on the phone who wasn't the same male who dropped it off.”
Destin had the room wired. Of course I have all my angles covered.
“He says you didn't get up to answer the door,” The Commissioner leads. “Why is that?”
“My hands were a little busy,” I retort.
“But he said you asked him to bring it in when you called.”
“Because I knew my hands would be a little busy.” He gives me a skeptical look. “My hands were already busy during that phone call, which I'm sure he can verify by my wife's moans, but I promised Knox champagne and strawberries. Now,” my tone changes to a challenging one. “You've already spoken to him. He entered my room. He saw us, or at least part of us since the blankets were covering our bodies, and he spoke to us. I in return spoke back. Correct?”
“Point?”
“My point, Commissioner Carter, is you are accusing me of a crime in one location while you have an eye witness who not only saw me, but spoke to me in another location. How on earth can I be in two places at once?”
Angered by the question, he shuts the folder. “You. Can't.”
“I understand your...frustrations,” I slowly say keeping the urge to smile to myself. “I also hope this helps in removing me from your suspect list.”
“We're going to give it all one more very hard look before that happens, but from your statements today and the alibi it looks like we will be.”
“And my brothers are next?”
“We interviewed them shortly after we booked you,” he informs. “They were both at home. Destin was having a video chat with his girlfriend, which we already verified while Drew was in the next room with company. Neither left the apartment.”
You're fucking right I thought of every little detail to cover. None of us are going down for the service I did to the world. None. Now, keep your mouth shut so it stays that way.
“We also spoke to Levi-”
“Wrench.”
“Whose whereabouts are also accounted for that evening. He was with the waitress from the restaurant.”
Pleased, I nod, “So all my family is in the clear?”
“It seems that way.”
Wrench wasn't ever an actual issue. He has no association or knowledge of The Devil. Besides, it was Friday night. I knew he wouldn't go to bed alone.
“Onto the charges for aggravated assault,” he starts before the door swings open.
At the sight of the face in the doorway, I instinctively growl.
Motherfucker...
“My client doesn't have to answer any more of your questions, Commissioner Carter,” Ax says slowly approaching my side of the table. “As his attorney, why was I not present for the previous questions?”
“He said and I quote, 'Why would an innocent man need one?'.” He turns his face my direction. “Are you guilty of something, McCoy?”
“Don't answer that,” Ax barks sharply.
If I wasn't in a fucking police interrogation room, I'd bash his pretty boy face on this fucking table. Beating the shit out of him would be worth returning to that fucking cell.
“Commissioner Carter, that comment wasn't appropriate.”
“It was a joke, counselor.”
Not a dick. He shouldn't take it so hard.
“Mr. McCoy did not request the presence of an attorney.”
“His wife did on his behalf,” Ax says smoothly.
Oh, that's a fucking fight that's going to be had.
“She was concerned the department would not treat him fairly considering the department’s behavior and previous interactions with the McCoys. As you are aware, I'm sure, they have not always been by the book or even lawful.”
The reminder of the dirty cops that used to walk these halls has him tensing. “We have taken care of that issue.”
“Even so.” Ax pats his tie. “I'm sure you can understand the concern she has.”
He lets out a deep sigh.
“There will be no further questions in the case of the alleged aggravated assault. The charges were dropped.”
In unison with the Commissioner I croak, “What?”
Ax gives me a hard look to be silent.
I'm gonna have his jaw wired shut if he looks at me like that again.
“Mr. Tyler Meyer has decided to drop the charges. He was heavily inebriated that night according to the bar he was thrown out of. He has also confessed to having little to no memory of the events that actually took place on the night in question-”
“Brain damage can do that,” the Commissioner quips.
I stifle the urge to chuckle.
Oh, come on. It was funny.
“On the night in question, Mr. McCoy is also sited with an alibi for the time of the alleged attack that Mr. Meyer has now taken back anyway.”
“May I ask what his alibi was?”
“He was with friends making arrangements for an elderly woman he helps provide for.”
The BV MC. They came through. Sometimes crime does pay.
“Now, please have an officer remove the cuffs off my client. Any further questions or comments regarding the issues you discussed here will go through me and my office.”
Commissioner Carter collects his photos and folder, stands, and looks me in the eyes. “Looks like you're free to go, McCoy.”
“Looks like it.”
On his way out the door, he mumbles close to Ax, “I'll be in touch.”
Ax says in a hushed tone, “I will be waiting on the other side of the door for you.”
I simply nod.
A few minutes later, the cuffs are removed, and I'm escorted out of the room to grab my belongings. Calmly, I exit the precinct beside Ax, but as soon as we turn the corner, I grab him by the collar of his shirt and slam his back against the wall.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he groans in agony. “Get off!”
“Why the fuck are you here?”
“I told you,” he struggles. “Knoxie called me.”
I throw his body against the wall again. “Bullshit!”
Through more groans he snaps, “What the fuck does she see in you?”
“It doesn't fucking matter what!” I scream. “She fucking married me!”
Ax's face scowls like he wants to say something.
I fucking want him too. I get one fucking phone call in prison. I know who it'll be to. Grandma Maggie is pretty forgiving.
Before I can damage him further there's a sharp whistle followed with, “Madden!”
Quickly my head turns to see her in her jeep with the window rolled down.
“Both of you. Get in. Now.”
Releasing him I stalk over to the vehicle nearly tearing the door off its hinges when I get inside.
I'd fix it. Eventually.
Once all three of us are behind closed doors, she turns and pulls into a parking garage just a block aw
ay.